


Altered State

by Fides



Category: The State Within
Genre: Drugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-18
Updated: 2008-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-01 23:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fides/pseuds/Fides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Nicholas is rather pragmatic and neither of the relationships are presented as 'Twue Wuv' so if you are looking for happy-ever-after, OTP romance then this probably isn't the story (despite what I like to think happens afterwards).</p><p>Big thanks to Moth2fic for the beta, any remaining mistakes are most definately my own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Altered State

**Author's Note:**

> Nicholas is rather pragmatic and neither of the relationships are presented as 'Twue Wuv' so if you are looking for happy-ever-after, OTP romance then this probably isn't the story (despite what I like to think happens afterwards).
> 
> Big thanks to Moth2fic for the beta, any remaining mistakes are most definately my own.

Nicholas Brocklehurst wasn't the type to take drugs recreationally; in his line of work it wouldn't have been safe even if he had had the inclination. However, as an, admittedly clandestinely employed, agent of MI6, Nicholas had been given some training to recognise the effects of narcotics; a month that wasn't half as fun as it sounded like it should have been. It was almost solely due to that training that he realised as swiftly as he did that the golden cotton wool feeling that was smoothing the sharp corners off his world could not be attributed to the finger of single malt that he had drunk. However, it was a combination of instinct and experience which made him grab his coat and head towards the door before anyone else also realised that fact. The drink had been a necessary cover for his supposedly accidental meeting with a potential new source, the best he could come up with at a quarter an hour's notice which was all he had been given. He kept himself together long enough to take his leave of the source and wonder whether his source had set him up.

It was hard to think through the creeping mental fog but Nicholas had found that adrenalin could clear the mind wonderfully, at least on a temporary basis. Assuming he had been targeted, the question was why? Information, and he supposedly had that burning a hole in his pocket, or blackmail were the two most likely reasons. If the meet was a set up then the information he carried was most likely useless, a ploy to draw him out. His only advantage was that blackmail and information extraction required him to be alive until his usefulness was over, and time he wasn't dead was time in which he had a chance. More concerning was the possibility that he was being taken out so that someone could take advantage of the period of confusion that would inevitably result while Six sent his replacement and he or she settled in. They were good, but they weren't perfect and there would be a window of opportunity there that anyone could take. That didn't feel right, though. The insidious warmth and bonhomie that were trying to smother his paranoia, suggested that it was more likely that he was going to find himself with a new set of best friends who would not have his best interests at heart, no matter what they assured him. Nicholas knew he had to get out of the bar and to somewhere safe before that could happen. Possibilities flicked through his mind and were dismissed - he couldn't go to his house where he would be alone and vulnerable and while he couldn't risk being alone, he couldn't remain in public or he would be swept up by some not-so-good Samaritan.

The cold air outside the bar revived Nicholas somewhat but he knew he was beginning to stagger as the drug took a stronger hold. He had just enough memory, regrettably of bright, loud movies rather than intense training sessions, not to take the cab that was conveniently waiting for him. It could have been salvation, but equally it could have been a ride to hell and he wasn't about to risk it. He was walking on time that wasn't so much borrowed as blatantly stolen, and he knew it. A passing bus gave him some much needed distance but he had to assume that he was being followed. It was harder than he expected to force himself back off the bus with its comfy seats and reassuring lights and into the chill city. He could only hope that, whoever they were, they hadn't had enough time to have someone waiting for him at wherever he was. He stumbled off the bus, waving off the driver's concern at his condition. Subtlety would have to be sacrificed for expediency and he barged into a young couple who had had more success than he would in hailing a cab.

"Sorry." He could hear his voice slurring but couldn't stop it. He fumbled in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a note of some denomination. "But I really need your cab."

Whether it was the note or the desire not to get involved with a clearly unreasonable stranger, Nicholas was past caring as he practically fell onto the seat, pulling the door closed on any argument.

"The Embassy," was the last thing he remembered clearly but he had a vague memory of arguing about whether he was British, as if that wasn't obvious, and he wondered why that was important.

...

Someone was shaking him and Nicholas forced himself to focus. Not his type he decided. He pushed the man away.

"Hey," the man objected. "We're here. It's shut. You wanna get the fuck out of my cab and pay me now? You can't sleep it off in here."

'Here.' Where was 'here'? Nicholas wondered curiously. He dragged himself out of the cab to see. It was always good to have information. To know things. Better to know things. He couldn't remember why but he knew there was a good reason. The Embassy loomed at him, sparking thoughts in the sluggish recesses of memory. Safe. He would be safe here. Safe from men demanding money. Safe from whatever was making him feel so unlike himself. Safe from the nameless thing that he knew he had to get away from even if he didn't know what it was. The gates were shut. That was a problem. There was a way to get them open. If the man would just shut up and leave him alone he could remember what it was.

Then there were voices and people. People grabbing him and he fought because he would not let them take him, not willingly. His name, someone was saying his name, telling the men holding him to let him go. The voice had a name if he could just remember it.

"Mark?"

For a moment the world almost made sense. Concerned blue eyes in a handsome face looked into his; warm arms held him gently. This was more like it. Now he could relax and let go.

***

Taxis arriving at the Embassy in the evening were not unknown; occasionally it was guests for the Residence whose drivers had got confused and ended up at the wrong place; even more rarely it was emergencies. In the normal run of events no one bothered Mark about it. Even when the taxi deposited a drunk who tried to break in, and it had happened a few times, security dealt with it until the police arrived and the first Mark would know about it would be when Nicholas mentioned it in his morning security briefing. Which, Mark thought, was probably why it was damn lucky that someone had recognised that the drunk in question was his own Councillor for External Affairs and had questioned whether they wanted to get the local PD involved. It was even more lucky that the question had been raised with someone who knew enough about what Nicholas' real job was to know just how out of character his actions were and raise the alarm.

By the time Mark arrived, out of breath and cursing, security had a uncooperative Nicholas on the ground and were talking to the cabbie.

"Nicholas," Mark called. hoping to get through to the struggling man. "Nicholas."

It seemed to work; Nicholas sagged slightly in the guards' grip and his head turned towards the sound. It was enough that Mark felt he could order the guards to let Nicholas go. They did so reluctantly and Mark suspected that when whatever-this-was was resolved Nicholas would have a few drinks to buy in apology for the split lips and bruised ribs he had caused.

"Mark?" Nicholas slurred, unsure and confused, and that sounded so wrong coming from him.

"I'm here," Mark promised him, not certain if he was understood. He was down on the ground besides Nicholas before he knew what he was doing. Pulling Nicholas to him and trying to catch his wandering attention. Even in the half-light of the street Mark could see Nicholas wasn't focusing properly on anything or anyone. "Nicholas?"

Hearing his own name appeared to ground Nicholas as he looked at Mark with something close to comprehension. The moment didn't last long but the echo of it could be found in the confused relief that remained even after understanding was gone. Nicholas relaxed into Mark's arms with a smile and a mumbled something which Mark was almost sure was 'hey sweetheart'.

"Ambassador?" someone said beside him.

Mark looked up. The taxi driver was gone; he would have to find out who had paid him off and make sure they were reimbursed, but the security guards and a few members of his staff who had obviously followed him were standing around waiting for instructions.

"We need to get him inside," he told the expectant crowd, "and someone call a doctor."

"Not an ambulance?" one of the security guards asked, surprised.

Mark could feel the thoughts tumbling over each other in his head. Nicholas had known, must have known, there was something wrong. Mark could still feel the ghost of Nicholas' grip on his arm, see the desperation fall away as Nicholas realised who held him. From what he had overheard, Nicholas had been in a lucid enough state to direct the cab driver to bring him to the British Embassy. Insistent, the cabbie had said. There was only one reason that Nicholas had had himself brought there rather than to a hospital.

"Not a hospital," Mark said decisively. "Not yet. Get a doctor - one you trust, not one out of the book. Until we know what is going on this is strictly ‘need to know’; let’s keep it under wraps if we can."

There were nods around him and he could see a new attitude take them over as they grasped the implications. The embassy staff were good, Mark thought fondly. Security were dispersing back to their normal positions but there was a extra edge of watchfulness and suspicion in the way they walked. The island mentality was kicking in and just because they were surrounded by foreign land rather than a natural moat didn't make it any less possible to mentally up-drawbridge. His own people stood back and let him deal with Nicholas but he could hear the quiet, mostly one-sided conversations as they talked into phones and radios and made arrangements.

"Let's get you up, shall we?" Mark coaxed Nicholas. "That's it; I've got you."

Mark felt rather silly talking to Nicholas as if he were a child; the man was normally so present that Mark kept expecting Nicholas to take him to task over it or possibly deck him. The man had done an impressive amount of damage given the state he was in. Total obliviousness to any pain as much as Army or secret service training, Mark suspected. Luckily his words, or possibly just the tone, seemed to be getting through, which was good because Mark was pretty sure that Nicholas would regret punching him and the only plan he had was to let go and jump away if Nicholas took a swing. While Mark had waved off any offers of help because he did not want to increase the risk of another violent reaction from Nicholas, he quickly realised he would have been in trouble if Nicholas hadn't been at least semi-awake and cooperative. Or at least as cooperative as Nicholas' uncoordinated attempts to follow Mark's instructions could be. Mark wasn't entirely sure how they ended up on their feet, Nicholas practically draped over him and clinging on for balance, but they managed.

"I hope you know what you are doing," he told Nicholas as sternly as he could, as they staggered away from the Embassy proper and towards the Residence. "By rights, you should be in a hospital right now."

"Whe' we going?" Nicholas revived slightly as they navigated with difficulty through the back door. In the light of the hallway Mark could see Nicholas' pupils were heavily dilated, a corona of blue all that remained around the eclipsing black.

"I'm putting you to bed," Mark said firmly.

Nicholas' brow furrowed as he thought this through. "Ummm, soun's good, bu' don' think 'm in any cond'tion tonigh'. S'rry. Mak' it up t'you t'morro'. Pro'ise."

"I know." Mark hugged Nicholas closer for a moment, letting him know he didn't mind whatever Nicholas might think he minded, then or later. Especially later, although they could worry about any embarrassment Nicholas might feel then, if Nicholas even remembered the conversation. "You aren't feeling well so you're going to bed while we get a doctor."

"Ah." Nicholas' acceptance was hardly more than a puff of hot breath against Mark's neck, ruffling the sensitive hairs at the nape. Mark had the worrying feeling that Nicholas would go along with pretty much anything he directed and it was that rather than the breath which caused a chill shiver to pass down his spine. He didn't like to think what might have happened if Nicholas hadn't made it back to the compound. Nicholas knew things that even he didn't and Mark accepted that, just as he accepted that despite their respective positions sometimes Nicholas would say jump and he would have to jump. The loss of himself might be problematic, but losing Nicholas would be downright disastrous.

They made it to the nearest guest room with no further conversation, Nicholas following his lead in that un-Nicholas way that creeped Mark out. Getting him into bed was easy enough as gravity was working with them. Nicholas sprawled across the coverlet like a discarded ragdoll, grinning with delight at the bounce and roll of his landing.

"I guess we better get you comfortable," Mark told the inattentive man. "I don't really know why I am giving you a running commentary; you aren't listening to me, are you?" Nicholas blinked at him vaguely but that was his only response and Mark wasn't totally sure that it wasn't just a reaction to the light.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Mark warned. "I undress all my staff when they deposit themselves on my doorstep out of their skull on God knows what..." He undid and slipped off Nicholas' shoes. "Just because you are the first... let's sit you up..." He helped Nicholas to pull his arms out of his suit jacket. "Sorry, as I was saying, just because you are the first, doesn't make you special..." The tie came off easily, too easily, because Mark could not imagine that Nicholas would allow hands and rope that close to his neck in normal circumstances ."..it just makes you..." Mark ran out of words, but from Nicholas' dreamy expression he doubted Nicholas was about to offer a critique. It wasn't true anyway. "Jesus, Nicholas, what did they give you?" Mark whispered, not expecting a reply.

To Mark's surprise, Nicholas' gaze cleared momentarily. "Dr'gged," he enunciated carefully and with effort.

"I know, " Mark assured him again, patting his shoulder, but Nicholas was gone. Eyes glazing even as his hand reached across to cover Mark's in response. His thumb idly stroked the inside of Mark's wrist in an unconscious gesture Nicholas didn't appear aware of. It seemed too cruel to take that comfort away so Mark didn't.

At some point as they waited, Nicholas had slumped to lean his head against Mark's hip and Mark's free hand had found itself resting on the short hair comfortingly. Mark wasn't sure which of them he was comforting, Nicholas never seemed to have such weaknesses, but Mark remembered his student days and the anchor that something as simple as a touch could be when the world was spinning out of control. A knock at the door and a discrete, "Sir Mark?" pulled him away from Nicholas reluctantly. In reality he knew he should be impressed with the speed at which his ever resourceful staff had found someone, but he found himself regretting the loss of the moment. That feeling was almost as disturbing as Nicholas' tractability. Since Nicholas seemed stable enough without his bolstering presence, something at least that had not changed, Mark stepped forward in good conscience to greet the miracle of a doctor who still made house calls.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, Doctor." Mark shook the doctor's hand warmly.

"Ambassador." The accent was a uneasy hybrid of Washington and London. "I admit I was surprised when my niece called."

"It was good of you to come over." Mark found the polite inanities fell from his mouth in perfect foreign office style. Just as typically, in his mind he was yelling at them both to shut up and get on with the important things. In this case, checking Nicholas hadn't been given anything lethal. While he knew that, in all likelihood, Nicholas would already be dead if it was going to happen, it seemed rather important to hear that from someone whose medical experience consisted of more than three schoolmates who were consultants, and sleeping with a nursing student or two back in the day.

"Is this the patient?" Doctor... and Mark realised he had never caught the man's name... the doctor asked, indicating Nicholas. Mark nodded. The blond head was hanging down and Mark could see Nicholas' shoulders rise and fall with each careful, slow breath. Mark wondered if a basin of some type might be wise. Nicholas lifted his head readily enough when prompted, eyes still Disney-wide and incapable of properly following the doctor's finger as it was passed in front of his face. It would almost have been funny watching Nicholas turn his head to try and pursue the finger his eyes couldn't track if it hadn't been so horribly wrong.

"Undo his shirt please." The doctor pulled a stethoscope and a thermometer from his bag.

Mark did as he was told as the doctor slipped the thermometer between Nicholas' lips and under his tongue. Mark had never really thought about what Nicholas looked like under his suit; the man was always just so professional it was easy to forget that there was flesh under the contained secret agent exterior. It had been, Mark realised belatedly, a very good defence mechanism and one now totally blown out of the water. He refused to let himself wonder if Nicholas felt as warm and solid as he looked, but the thought sneaked in past his worry and concern, as insidious as the drug in Nicholas' system. God, it really had been too long.

"Well?" Mark demanded as the doctor finally ran out of tests.

"I don't know what to tell you beyond the obvious. His pulse is a little fast and his temperature a little high but nothing too concerning. If he was a girl I might worry that someone slipped him a roofie but as it is he probably just drank too much and forgot his way home."

Mark forced himself not to snap at the narrowness of the doctor's worldview. It was hardly the time and he did not want to alienate the man who had been kind enough to come out.

"Not Nicholas," Mark said with conviction. "Run a blood test. I want to know what he was given."

The doctor did not appear convinced but gave his best 'whatever you say' shrug. They pulled the covers back and got Nicholas to lie down on the bed before the doctor rolled up his sleeve to draw the blood. In the bed, Nicholas' pale skin, with its light gilding of hair adding unneeded definition to the muscles, looked paler still against the barely blue shirt and the cream sheets. Nicholas didn't seem to notice the bite of the needle as it sank into his arm.

"What should we do?" Mark asked as the test tube filled with dark red blood.

The doctor gave him a searching expression but appeared satisfied when he clicked his teeth and turned back to the patient.

"He'll probably get a bit restless but make him as comfortable as you can. It would be better to have someone stay with him, just in case, but at this point it is mostly a matter of his sleeping it off." The doctor caught Mark's expression. "Whatever it is," he clarified. "If there are any changes then call an ambulance at once, but otherwise just be prepared for his feeling like seven kinds of shit tomorrow."

The doctor cleaned up quickly, the plaster over the puncture site almost before Mark realised he had removed the needle. He was, Mark acknowledged, a good doctor even if he didn't think that attractive blond men who worked for the British government got slipped mickies. Or possibly, Mark realised with a lurch, he just thought that attractive blond men who worked for the British government were perfectly capable of ingesting whatever substances they wanted without help and he was trying to cover up for the poor bastard with his boss. He wondered what this must look like from the outside and decided it was probably best not to think about it. If Nicholas minded, personally or professionally, whatever rumours got started, then Mark was sure Nicholas had his own ways of making his displeasure felt. Ways that Mark probably didn't want to know about.

He saw the doctor out with all the expected courtesy but was relieved to find that the doctor's niece was waiting outside the room to take the man off his hands. With one more heartfelt thank you, Mark left the doctor to his relative and returned to Nicholas.

"I guess we better get you to bed properly," Mark said, as much to himself as Nicholas. Nicholas gave him a blinding smile. Mark sat on the edge of the bed and touched Nicholas' cheek gently. "You'd agree with me right now, whatever I said, wouldn't you?" Nicholas closed his eyes and turned his head into the touch. "You know, I'd actually feel a lot better if I thought for a moment it was me you were reacting to because at least then I wouldn't keep thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't made it back here. Tomorrow," Mark told him thickly, "I expect you to be your normal enigmatic, bastard self, who would bug the president of the United States if he thought he could get away with it, because I find him much easier to deal with. And then we will have a nice long conversation about how this happened. Agreed?" Nicholas' lips brushed his knuckles. "I'm going to take that as a yes."

Mark sighed. It seemed unfair to let Nicholas be uncomfortable just because Mark had had a few stray thoughts over the time they had worked together which had involved Nicholas and beds and a lot more mutual involvement. The shirt was easy, it was half off anyway. The skin underneath was a smooth and inviting as it had looked and Mark steadfastly ignored it, just as he ignored the pleased little noises that Nicholas kept making at each unavoidable touch. Removing Nicholas' belt and gun (and how had Mark not even considered that before?) and loosening the waist of Nicholas' trousers seemed to cover the necessities. Satisfied that both honour and propriety were satisfied, Mark pulled the covers up to Nicholas' neck and settled down in a chair by the bed. It was going to be a long night.

***

Nicholas fought awake, sure there was something important he needed to do.

He was naked, or nearly so, in a strange room and apparently holding the hand of the British Ambassador who slept in a chair next to the bed, with what looked like Nicholas' gun nestled in his lap. The Freudian imagery aside, that was definitely an unusual way for Nicholas to wake up even without the added oddity of Mark's presence and the fact he was... he let go of the hand he was holding quickly. Mark stirred at the lack of contact, blinking blearily in the morning light. His smile when he saw Nicholas was awake was reassuring. Whatever had happened he couldn't have done something too inappropriate. Although he was having trouble coming up with any circumstances which would result in the particular situation in which he found himself.

"How much do you remember?" Mark asked gently.

That was the question wasn't it? He remembered leaving the Embassy. He had been on his way home... after that it started getting vague. There had been an unexpected phonecall. A bar. A meeting.

"My coat?" Nicholas sat up abruptly, looking to see if it was in the room. He regretted the movement almost immediately but that wasn't important. It was one of the things he respected about Mark that the man didn't stop to ask stupid questions when it was time for action. Of course, occasionally he didn't stop and think either but that was why Nicholas, or someone like him, was there.

His coat was hanging up in one of the wardrobes and in much better state then he was.

"I think someone retrieved it from the taxi driver when they paid your fare," Mark said as he slid it off the hanger. "What am I looking for?"

"I don't know," Nicholas admitted after careful thought. "I don't even know if whatever it is, is the reason why I was drugged. I was drugged, wasn't I?"

Mark nodded, gently laying out the coat on the bed so Nicholas could search through it himself. "The doctor's running some blood tests to try and work out what it was." Nicholas was surprised when Mark paused for a moment, fiddling with the cuff of the coat. "We nearly lost you. If you hadn't made it here..."

"This," Nicholas worked the USB key out of the hidden pocket that he used in emergencies, "might have been lost. Assuming that it was this they were after and they didn't just want to pick my brain."

Nicholas had to hope his attack was related to whatever information was on the small drive because that was the only clue they had. If it wasn't then, whoever they were, they would keep trying until they got the information out of his head one way or another. Nicholas liked his head and its content the way it was. They had been very lucky and this would be the only warning they were going to get.

"That wasn't what I meant," Mark said irritably.

"That is what is important," Nicholas cut him off. "Until we know what is going on, everyone is on alert. No one goes out alone, especially not senior staff. Can you get a laptop brought in here, a secure one? We need to know what is on this."

"For God's sake Nicholas, of course I realised the security implications; we'll do a head count and send a memo out this morning if you think the rest of the staff might be in danger. That doesn't mean I didn't also worry about what might have happened to you. When we brought you in here we didn't know if you had been targeted because of who you were or because..." Mark's eyes flicked over him and it occurred to Nicholas that he was distinctly under dressed.

"Because?" Nicholas prompted. But even as he said it he realised what Mark was getting at and his mouth went dry. "I wasn't in that sort of bar," he bit out.

Mark leant towards him, blue eyes boring into Nicholas with an almost painful intensity. "There is no 'that sort of bar' when it comes to the type of person who would resort to drugs."

The pieces fell into place in Nicholas' head. "It scared you," he murmured.

Mark thrust himself out of the chair, the gun falling unheeded to the floor. Nicholas winced but said nothing in the face of Mark's aggravation.

"Of course it scared me," Mark said as if it should have been obvious. "You didn't see yourself last night."

That was interesting, Nicholas thought. He had got the impression he had been pretty out of it but from the way Mark was acting it there had to have been more to it.

"What happened?"

Mark looked at him as if he wasn't sure Nicholas wasn't still under the influence of something.

"Mark, this isn't just morbid curiosity about how much of a fool I made of myself. The only way to make sure something like this doesn't come back to bite either of us on the arse later is to get it out into the open, full disclosure. I need to know. Everything."

"How can you just do that?" Mark demanded helplessly.

Nicholas chuckled but even to his own ear there wasn't much humour in the sound. "After the interview I had to go though when I joined Six... once you have answered questions on your entire sexual history, in detail, at least twice, with a woman who is old enough to be your mother, looks like your maiden aunt, and keeps correcting you... not only does celibacy start looking like an acceptable option but embarrassment becomes much less of an issue. I think it is the first stage of interrogation training."

"All right," Mark conceded. "But can we at least see about breakfast? I know it’s still an ungodly hour but you should eat if you feel up to it and after a night in that chair I feel in desperate need of coffee."

"Am I allowed to ask where my trousers are?" Nicholas conceded.

His shirt and jacket were visible enough on the back of Mark's chair but of the rest of his suit there was no sign..

Mark shrugged. "You did complain about being hot so I assume you kicked them off."

Nicholas breathed a silent sigh of relief. That wasn't too bad. He felt around with his legs to see if he could locate the tangle of fabric. They might have been more wrinkled than anything else but he had worn much worse in his time.

Of course not everyone had spent a week in the same combats after a screw up with supply. "I'll send someone to your house for a change of clothes," Mark offered.

The gracious Ambassador struck again; Nicholas always found it rather nice to see the way Mark reverted to type as an automatic default.

"I can manage with what I have for a few hours longer," he declined.

Assuming he could find where he had kicked his trousers, Nicholas amended mentally. He hadn't streaked his place of employment since the memorable occasion which had followed naturally on from a long stint confined to barracks, a lost bet and a case of some awful local brew his mates had smuggled in. That hadn't been a solo mission however and the risk of the squad being up on charges was nothing compared to the potential ramifications of his appearing less than impeccably turned out.

Mark regarded him curiously. "You really don't like people going into your house, do you?"

"That surprises you?"

"Not really," Mark admitted. "Would a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt be a preferable alternative? Mine should fit you and they’re close enough."

Nicholas located his trousers with a toe. "Thank you."

"You stay there. I'll see what I can rustle up. If we are going to have a 6am briefing, we can at least do it in a civilised manner."

"Mark."

Mark was nearly at the door when Nicholas stopped him; he waited with his hand on the doorknob.

"Don't forget the laptop."

Nicholas was a little offended but not entirely surprised that Mark was laughing as he left the room. Nicholas consoled himself with the thought that, after a night sitting up with him, Mark was probably feeling a little punchy. Alone, Nicholas lay back on the pillows and tried to put everything together. There were the things he knew, the things he suspected and the things that he didn't know yet. He head felt like he had tried to out-drink the English rugby team before giving them space in his skull to practice. He ached in a dozen places which suggested a fight he didn't remember having. He hoped the other guy felt worse. The fight must have been after he was drugged. Or must it? Had he got away or had he been sent home after his attackers had got what they wanted from him? None of the bruises were bad enough to suggest he had been interrogated or that any unsavoury methods, other than the drugs, had been used upon him. That was good news, at least.

He pushed himself from the bed, rejecting the possibility of more rest. Grabbing his trousers he threw them over the chair with the rest of his clothes. Stretching to work the kinks out of his back Nicholas had to wonder how Mark had managed to sleep in the chair without ended up with parts of it permanently embedded in him. It felt good to be moving, to get the blood going and the neurons firing. He reviewed the day's schedule. He didn't have any tabled meets (which was a good thing), just the normal round of meetings and briefings but they wouldn't start for a few hours yet. Squash at lunchtime but the physical work out would be good for him. Before that he needed to find out what had happened, start the necessary inquiries and then have a long shower and wash the whole incident off him. He adjusted himself carefully; a shower was definitely sounding more and more appealing. Upon investigation he discovered the en-suite had both a bath and shower attachment but contented himself with splashing cold water over his face and rinsing his mouth out after he made use of the facilities. That went some way to making him feel closer to human.

Nicholas had been in the army for long enough that he didn't think twice about being in nothing but a pair of skivvies when Mark returned with the clean outfit and a laptop that Nicholas recognised as one he had cleared for sensitive work. Mark waited patiently as Nicholas shrugged into the clothes he had been handed. They weren't a bad fit and enough like his own morning attire that he felt comfortable in them.

"We have tea and toast coming in my private dining room," Mark explained. "I thought it best if we keep this as low key as we can for the moment and that is about as secure as we can manage here."

Nicholas nodded. "We can plan the next steps after the debrief." He looked at the watch that had never made it off his wrist the night before. "We have time before everyone starts coming in for the day."

The dining room was cosy but with enough formal elegance that it could be used to entertain favoured guests. Nicholas found it a little pompous but that was what the Residency was about, bluff and history. He knew Mark didn't tend to use it unless he was entertaining and it was private enough that only an emergency would result in their disturbance. A selection of covered dishes was waiting for them when they arrived along with a pot of tea for which Nicholas was truly thankful. Planning and strategy required calm rather than caffeine even if the boost would have been welcome.

Nicholas snagged the laptop and waved Mark towards the table while he made use of both the sideboard and the disguised socket which was normally intended for the inbuilt hotplate. Carefully, he slipped the network card out of the laptop before booting it up. The virus and trojan checkers would take some time to run but there was no point in taking any risks when they didn't know what was on the drive. Sliding the key into the USB slot he let the security software recognise its existence and start working before leaving it to its own devices. By the time they had finished talking the groundwork would be laid for him to investigate further. He would need to forward everything to GCHQ but he had found they worked better when they had specific lines of inquiry to follow up.

Although the unpleasant feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach did not subside, the tea revived Nicholas more than he had expected. Obviously dehydration had been a factor in the 'morning after' feeling. Either that or there was more truth to the jokes about the English dependence on tea than he had suspected. They ate in silence for a few minutes, letting the food work any magic it could on them after the long night. It was Nicholas who broke the silence, too keyed up to eat much even without the nausea and feeling the pull of information much more strongly than that of sustenance.

Watching Mark carefully across the table, he said, "Tell me what happened last night."

Mark carefully finished cutting the section of poached egg on toast he had been working his way through before he answered.

"Whatever drug cocktail they gave you it had a few side effects." He ate the piece he had cut quickly. "After you stopped fighting with security you calmed down and were exceedingly docile and cooperative. At least while the doctor was around. I assume that was what they wanted. You didn't react negatively to anything, even when the doctor drew your blood."

Nicholas could understand why that had scared Mark. It scared him more than he wanted to think about.

"Did I respond at all?" Concentrate on the important points, that was the only way of dealing with what had happened. It wasn't about him; it couldn't be about him.

"You seemed to respond to your name, direct questions occasionally. We talked a few times during the night, well I talked and ever so often you gave your opinion." Mark looked away briefly, lips quirking at the twisted normalcy of what he was describing. "You reacted to touch as well as sound, which was lucky as even I couldn't talk all night and, after the doctor left, you were fine for a while but then you started to get agitated unless you knew someone was with you. At best you would doze for a bit but you woke up every time I moved away." Mark interpreted Nicholas' look correctly. "There was space on top of the covers next to you; I was able to catch a bit of sleep myself that way," he elaborated.

Nicholas refused to think about that, no matter how appealing the thought might be. There was a certain irony in his getting one of the most eligible men in DC into bed and not being in any state to appreciate it. Irony was a good description; he could think of a few others.

"Going back to the verbal responses," Nicholas pressed. "You said I answered direct questions?"

"That is somewhat overstating the case. Do I think someone could have persuaded you to reveal sensitive information?" Mark was forced to let the question hang in the air as he gave it the consideration it deserved. "Possibly, with time and a lot of patience."

"Damn!" Nicholas said succinctly. There wasn't much else to say.

"We can trace your steps," Mark pointed out. "See what the chances are you were compromised."

They would trace his steps. Would try and account for every second of his time after his memory started to fail but they could never really know if what they discovered was the truth. A well-planned operation and they could have had him out and back with no one the wiser and a host of witnesses confirming his integrity. He knew it had been done so it could have been done to him.

"And change all security protocols." It was such a pitiable response but what else could they do. "It's a mess, Mark."

"It would have been more of a mess if you hadn't made it back here," Mark said, with such seriousness that Nicholas found himself believing that, at the least, Mark believed it was true. "We don't know they got anything from you."

That was optimism talking and they didn't pay Nicholas to be an optimist; they paid him to think up the nastiest scenarios and make sure they didn't happen - or at least happened to other people.

"We don't know," Nicholas agreed. "But, until we know they didn't, we have to assume the worst." Mark didn't look happy but there wasn't much to be happy about in the whole situation. "That was it?"

Please, Nicholas thought, let that be it. It is more than enough to keep me busy for the next month even if nothing else came up.

"Full-disclosure Nicholas?" Mark wheedled. "Even if it isn't security related."

The remaining egg on his plate had cooled, congealing slightly, and Mark pushed it around with his fork as if that would restore it to full glory.

"Full-disclosure," Nicholas repeated. "It's my job to decide if it’s relevant."

Mark put the fork down again, middle finger tapping the silver handle as if he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to let go. "I don't know if it was the drugs wearing off or something else kicking in but you started hallucinating."

"Nightmares?"

Nicholas was almost relieved. Personal he could handle. Personal might not be comfortable but it didn't put the safety of the Embassy or country at risk. He might not be one of the more important cogs in the mechanism of government but it didn't do to downplay the damage that could be done if he missed a catch. It was very Mark that this was what Mark hadn't wanted to tell him.

"To start with," Mark confirmed in a way that immediately had Nicholas worrying about what came after. "You didn't say much, if that was what you were wondering." It hadn't been but Nicholas saw no need to tell Mark that. "You settled after an hour or so but I don't think it was pleasant." Nicholas nodded. He could imagine even if he couldn't remember. His own actions didn't bother him particularly but he still remembered the stink of bodies left too long under the desert sun, so much worse than that of the scorched chunks of human confetti that proved the bombers found and hit a manned target. "After that it got better. You were still under but I think wherever the drugs had taken you was more salubrious."

That was interesting in an equally disturbing way. Nicholas had to wonder what Mark counted as a salubrious drug experience and how he knew.

"In what way?" was all he said.

Nicholas had seen Mark act with both poise and elegance after forty eight hours of political crisis, most of which he had spent replacing sleep with caffeine. This was the closest he had seen Mark to tongue-tied including the time the Russians had got him drunk on premium strength vodka and the morning that followed.

"Let's just say you seemed to be having a very favourable reaction and you reacted accordingly." Nicholas had been wrong; personal could be important if it got in the way of the job that needed to be done. He closed his eyes briefly against the image that was coming to him all too clearly. Mark must have guessed what he was thinking because quietly but distinctly he said, "You didn't do anything."

Now Nicholas understood the expression 'thank heaven for small mercies', for a small mercy it was, at least.

"That must have been," Nicholas searched for the right word, "uncomfortable."

Mark looked away. "That is one way of putting it," he agreed.

"Did I say anything..?" It was bad, but that was one way practically guaranteed to make it worse. Nicholas mentally ran through the names he might conceivably have let slip. Mark was too sharp not to suspect if Christopher's name had found its way to his lips.

"Worrying who you might have compromised?" Mark was too smart for his own good sometimes. "Don't. Unless you are particularly friendly with any other 'Mark's in DC you didn't implicate anyone outside the room."

Shit! Nicholas didn't let his reaction show but he could feel the weight of Mark's regard. The bright blue eyes cut into him, looking for something and Nicholas was afraid what that might be.

"Do you want my resignation?" Nicholas said carefully, trying to feel out Mark's reaction. Mark was professional; they would be able to work together for long enough for his replacement to arrive and Nicholas to get them up to speed.

"Don't be ridiculous." Mark looked horrified. "I'd have been flattered if I had thought it anything more than a reaction to the drugs and my inadvisedly saying your name before I realised it wasn't another nightmare. If anything I feel like I should be apologising to you."

"But if it made you uncomfortable?" Nicholas pressed. It was no time for any PC diversity bullshit if what had happened was going to to cause any friction between them. In other situations Nicholas would, and had, stood up for his rights but those times he hadn't just made a pass at his, nominally senior and straight, colleague. Circumspect by nature and occupation, Nicholas had been as open as he got about his sexuality from the moment M16 recruited him out of the army and into the foreign office. While it had never been a problem between them before, he and Mark needed to work too closely together to risk any interpersonal issues coming between them. The job was hard enough as it was and, while he didn't give a shit what other people thought about him, his relationship with Mark wasn't about promoting tolerance; it was about them both effectively doing their jobs and it was those jobs were what were important.

"Yes, well," Mark looked at Nicholas, "there are many ways of being uncomfortable, some of which can be dealt with more easily than others. Maybe I should have said I wasn't in a position to give either of us any privacy." Nicholas stared at Mark, not really sure he believed what it sounded like Mark was implying. "Nothing happened, Nicholas. I didn't dare leave you alone and while I have always admired your self-sufficiency it didn't seem like the time. You were hardly in a state of mind to resist when I stopped you from acting on any impulses you might have been feeling."

"You," Nicholas had a sudden flash of how he had woken up that morning, and wasn't sure whether to shake Mark or kiss him. "You spent the entire night holding my hand."

"Not the entire night," Mark qualified. "I think we both fell asleep around three."

"You didn't have to..." Nicholas ran out of words, surprised and touched by what Mark had done. He would have done the same thing if their situations had been reversed but he would have done it in the name of security while Mark had done it in the name of friendship.

Mark's tone was gentle. "You make yourself very easy to work with when you aren't being a stubborn, secretive son of a bitch."

"Thank you." Nicholas found the calm he had been looking for. "I could say the same thing about you."

Mark shook his head at the complement. "Just so you know: I think you’re a devious bastard as well, but that actually makes you easier to work with. You’re always more accommodating when you want something."

Nicholas laughed, unaccountably relieved. "I'll bear that in mind."

Mark studied Nicholas closely. "Come on, Nicholas. I know you must have read my file. I'm hardly in any position to throw stones, am I?."

They stared at each other in shock, both realising in that instant that reality and belief had not matched either of their expectations and yet neither quite ready to accept the conclusions that each had reached.

Slowly Nicholas smiled, impressed that he had been caught out. "And here I actually believed the rumours were just the result of someone with too much time and a vivid imagination."

"Only partially." Mark shrugged.

"Partially? You got curious?"

"No," Mark corrected, "I was curious at Oxford. These days I prefer to think of myself as well-informed."

"And careful." Nicholas shook his head in disbelief but the smile didn't slip. "I can't believe we missed it."

Mark finally smiled back, a little ruefully. "It has been quite a while since I had anything to be careful about. Still, I assumed your lot already had the information so it seems a bit superfluous to worry that you have it now."

Nicholas' good humour fell away. "You think I’m going to report this?"

"Aren't you?" Mark challenged.

Nicholas ducked his head in acknowledgment of the truth of the accusation but said nothing.

"See," Mark said lightly, "who's supposed to keep me in line if you aren't around?"

Nicholas liked the position he had carved out for himself in DC and enjoyed the challenge. It suited him and he felt that he suited it. He even got along with most the people he interacted with on a daily basis and had worked out how and when to work around the others.

"As long as you are sure that is what you want," he offered one final time.

"I want," and Mark's tone brooked no argument, "you in place and doing your job. Anything else is secondary."

"I still feel I should..." Nicholas began.

"Damn it Nicholas, if you say apologise I'll start questioning your expenses." They stared at each other across the table. Mark drew a careful breath. "You're an attractive man and if you have so much as spent a moment of your time thinking about me as last night suggested then I take it as a great compliment. And you can tell your bosses I said so as long as they don't pull you out of here because of it."

"These days," Nicholas answered slowly, weighing each word as he spoke "what I have to tell them about my private life comes down to whether I think they need to know; whether I think anything can be used against me." Nicholas held Mark's eyes. "Or against someone else."

Mark didn't blink. "And whether you learn anything useful?"

From most people that might have come with the implication that Nicholas was whoring himself out for the Kingdom, but Mark knew the way things worked in politics where even friendships had to be mutually beneficial. The only difference with the world of intelligence was that Nicholas didn't have to make sure all parties were satisfied, with regards to information at least, if he could get away with it. There were no neat lines between personal and business in the spy business and anyone not already involved in the game was a target waiting to happen.

"Sometimes serendipitous gathering of information occurs," Nicholas confirmed. "The Intelligence community can be very incestuous. There aren't many people who understand what we do and why the lies have to be told. I don't like exposing civilians to that."

The fact that sometimes the thrill and rush of the game could make things more interesting was understood, was one of the first things you learned in politics, business or intelligence. It was one of the ways that the job suited him; Nicholas had never had any trouble remembering that he was playing and didn't confused sex, and even friendship, with trust. Nicholas knew Mark appreciated that; personal common ground did not make for common ground at the negotiating table either.

"Am I a civilian?" Nicholas could recognise Mark's diplomat face easily enough, politely bland and giving away nothing. Nicholas didn't trust that face for a minute. It wasn't quite the question Mark wanted the answer to, but it was close enough.

Nicholas tried to think whether the answer would be different on another day when his brain wasn't still playing catchup and Mark hadn't spent the night guarding him from narcotics-imposed misadventure. He wasn't going to deny that Mark was damn good looking and had the charisma and drive to go with it. He was interested, certainly, but interest wasn't enough. Their work and their working relationship had to come first. Mark claimed to understand how things had to be between their respective roles but, in that respect, Mark was a civilian not an operative. If they let themselves be Mark and Nicholas rather than Ambassador and embedded Agent for that little while, would Mark still understand afterwards that it was Nicholas' job, not only to find out the truth, but to lie both to and for him, to go behind his back and if necessary to do things that Mark needed to not know about so he could stay clean. Mark was a pragmatist, but the idealist was not hiding far beneath the surface and Nicholas worried that Mark wanted more than Nicholas could give.

"I have current commitments." Nicholas thought of Chris, probably still asleep in bed, warm and drowsy. The 'special' relationship between the US and the UK was being played out by their intelligence operatives; experience against brashness and both enjoying the testosterone-laced _entente cordiale_. It was good, but it was an arrangement between two agents on different sides and, despite any fondness, nothing more. So far it had lasted longer than Nicholas had expected, but that covered any night beyond the first, and they both knew that was how it would play out in the end when politics made their dalliance into a threesome.

"Ah." Mark reached for the teapot and Nicholas stopped him, covering Mark's hand with his own.

"That wasn't a no. But you need to understand that I won't stop or jeopardise those commitments for you. I'm not sure what you are suggesting but it can't change anything. I have my job to do and, as you said, everything else is secondary."

It was almost ridiculous, a product of some drawing room comedy, two men holding hands around a teapot handle.

"I wouldn't expect, or want, anything else," Mark assured him. "No pressure, no regrets, no promises... _if_ you were interested."

"A friendly hand to hold without the politics?" Nicholas let his hand slid off Mark's slowly, fingertips kissing a reluctant goodbye to the knuckles under them. He wondered if Mark's mind had gone to the same place his had; as the night before had shown there was a distinct difference between a friendly hand and a hand of friendship.

"Something like that," Mark agreed, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement.

Nicholas let himself smile. That could work. The laptop pinged its agreement and Nicholas went to it, aware of Mark's gaze at his back as he checked it. The disc was clean so their time was up. His eyes swept over the documents that had been revealed. It looked like it was something to do with Hanley International; that would be easy enough to follow up but he wished he could remember who he had been supposed to meet. He turned back to Mark.

"I need to get going. I'll draft up a memo about safety for you to issue, get a security check on the doctor and make a start on this. You go run the consulate and I'll see you at the morning briefing." Nicholas gathered up the laptop and attendant parts.

"Make time to get yourself checked out," Mark instructed, countering Nicholas' list of orders with his own. "You won't find out what is going on quicker if you fall over."

"I'll even stop long enough to shower and change into something presentable," Nicholas assured him. Looking Mark over he added simply, "You could probably do with a hot shower yourself after that night in the chair."

Mark could only nod, the muscles of his back clearly signalling their objection as he rolled his shoulders.

Nicholas paused by Mark on his way out. "Look after yourself too," he advised, squeezing Mark's shoulder in a silent thank you. A thought popped into his head and, unable to resist, he leant down quickly. His lips almost brushing Mark's ear he whispered, "I'll be thinking of you." He was out of the door before he could be caught by the expression on Mark's face as Mark realised what Nicholas had just suggested. Nicholas knew he would probably pay for it later but just then he had a puzzle to solve and some bad guys to scare the living crap out of just as soon as he found them. It was going to be a good day.

***

The first thing Nicholas did when he got into his office was set into motion the changing of all the security protocols. The second was draft the memo for Mark about safety. The third was to e-mail Chris confirming their weekly squash match and, having checked his calendar, to apologise for not having met him the night before. The response, which was short and to the point, told him not to worry and that Christopher was looking forward to whupping Nicholas' ass on the court. Nicholas smiled as he deleted the email. He wasn't sure if it was a Christopher-thing or a privileged American-thing, but Christopher really had never mastered the art of topping from the bottom.

In his daily report, Nicholas included the events of the night and Mark's confession but not the discussion that followed it. He was allowed some discretion about what he included and Vauxhall Cross did not need to know everything, especially not everything when nothing had actually happened. If he reported every fantasy he had in the shower then his dossier would be a lot thicker and Chris Carter and David Shore would be under a lot more scrutiny.

It was a day before Nicholas got the complete report on the doctor that treated him. It gave him a clean profile beyond the standard flags that were almost epidemic to graduates of medical schools. While he waited, Nicholas saw an M16-cleared doctor for a full physical. Both he and the doctor sent in reports confirming he was cleared for active duty and, that done, Nicholas started analysing the contents of the USB drive. Unknown to him, the doctor's report noted that long term side-effects of the drug cocktail were unlikely but that, if possible, the sample of blood taken at the time of the incident should be retrieved, both for security and for specific testing for lysergic acid and related compounds as that might have future implications.

It was two days before he had uncovered enough of his movements that night to be relatively sure he hadn't been compromised. That evening in their private security briefing he told Mark who said, “Thank God,” in that way that was more about thanks and less about God and kissed him. They got on with the rest of the briefing as if nothing had happened.

It was four days before Nicholas heard back from GCHQ about the USB drive. Based on the contents he was ordered to investigate Hanley International. He didn't mention it to Mark and when Mark asked merely told him that the investigation was ongoing.

It was five days before Nicholas stayed overnight at Christopher's for the first time. Christopher had been so keyed up about something that Nicholas could practically feel the heat rising from him. Nicholas just said 'come to bed' and let the energy consume them both until it was burnt off. Afterwards they fell into an exhausted sleep and neither woke until the morning. They both pretended that it was what they had meant to happen. Nicholas knew better than to ask, but for the next few days he combed the daily reports for signs of Defense Intelligence handiwork.

It was a week before the check on Anthony Hanley came back clean and Nicholas made contact with him. Hanley was impressed by the way that Nicholas pretended they had not had previous contact and said so. Nicholas never told him any different. Anthony began collecting evidence at Nicholas' behest and Nicholas began looking into the trade of spark gap switches. The mystery of the drugging deepened as Nicholas wondered if he or Hanley had been the intended victim. He told Hanley to be careful but kept his suspicions to himself. There would be no meetings in future – just drop-offs.

It was nine days before a combination of unexpected events including a last minute cancellation, a slightly sore shoulder muscle from a particularly energetic squash game and a heated discussion on the relative merits of West Ham and the state of the FA Cup resulted in Mark and Nicholas sharing Mark's shower at the Residence. As Nicholas had expected, Mark made him pay for his previous teasing. Neither of them regretted it or asked if anything was going to happen again.

It was two weeks before Nicholas officially told Mark that he was not allowed to have any contact with James Sinclair as the man was considered a political liability.

It was three weeks before Mark told Nicholas that he had been asked to go to London and that he suspected he was going to be offered a new job back home. It went without saying that he would take it, putting his feet firmly on the political path to Downing Street and that Nicholas would do what it took to keep his replacement in DC out of trouble. That evening Nicholas turned up at the Residence with some important papers that Mark needed to check regarding an upcoming social function Mark was hosting. At Mark's invitation he joined Mark for dinner and their discussion ended up going long into the night. No one remarked on his presence or gave it a second thought. There might be a certain frisson in having fucked the Prime Minister and fond memories could conceivably help his job prospects if Mark did make it to Number 10 but it wasn't about either of those things.

It was a month before before Nicholas went with Sally to meet Mark at the airport and the world in the form of a British 737 came crashing down around them.


End file.
